In The Valley of Shadows
by ShadowofXeonihl
Summary: The Reign of Kira has long since passed. America, 2123, Darryl lives a boring, uneventful life, and the uninspired actions of one Death God will determine the fate of the New World to come. Rated M for Language and Violence to be on the safe side
1. Chapter 1: Call

_In the Valley of Shadows  
_

Chapter One:

Call

_Is there any reason to this? Why I'm standing here, why I made the bet, why it happened that I got this Note? _

_Drop it, they tell me. They cackle and dance, flailing their arms and gnashing their teeth. I don't care, either way. Nothing matters._

_I've seen humans before, once. Until that point I'd only seen names, years through unblinking eyes. One time they glanced below the words, below the numbers and saw the people they belonged to. They don't make sense to me. I can't understand how they act, think. All that they fear, everything – it comes right back to me, to my Note. The only way they escape the fear, my Note, is to find reason in things. I don't see the reason they see. My eyes can't see past their ends. I don't see reasons._

_There is no reason why I'm standing here. There's no reason I made the bet, and no reason that I have this Note._

_But I'm going to drop it anyway._

--

**Log: 9.17.2123**

**6:00AM**

**Thursday**

**Wake Up, Master Darryl**

His vision was blurry as his eyes opened, heavy and beginning to drift once more. He could just barely make out the clock next to his bed. The Log was as it had said: Thursday – only this time it was 6:01. He grudgingly forced himself out of bed, stretching out the stiffness from his back.

**Info: Your mother is waiting downstairs. She has your new supplies and is preparing your breakfast.**

"And where is dad?"

**Processing…**

**Info: Your father left for work fifteen minutes ago exactly**_. _

"Is his portable turned on?"

**Message **

**From: your father. Accept?**

"Yes, Dael. Put it through." He struggled to remove his pajamas and speak at the same time.

**Message Stream "Darryl, I saw your test last night. You know you can do better, so…well I'm not going to repeat myself again. You're not getting punished this time since I saw you were studying pretty hard the night before. If you need help you can always go to tutoring. Call me when you get out today." Message sent at: 5:45AM from your father's portable. Erase message?**

"No, save it please, Dael. Maybe I can use it against him next time he tries to yell at me about not studying hard enough." He let loose a chuckle as he slipped his socks on.

**Message Saved. **

Darryl got his laptop from the desk and headed for the door.

**Have a good day at school, Master Darryl.**

"Thanks, Dael. I'll see you when I get home." He shut the door behind him

--

Darryl shivered a bit beneath his sweater under the still-damp trees, the morning just breaking through the leaves. He shrugged his messenger bag up further onto his shoulder, lessening the burden a bit. The walk to school was never an enjoyable one, be it due to the weather or the impending doom of a test. Whatever the case, Darryl wore his gloom like it was part of his drab uniform, something he wasn't proud of, but something he had to wear unless he wanted detention.

He began to ponder why he was in school in the first place. He never really understood some of the reasons he was given. Sure, there were always the essentials – proper grammar, basic math, some history and so on, but why did he need to know some of the more specific things? Like the square root of twenty-nine? Or _current events_. The phrase made Darryl gag. He couldn't stand it. His father did nothing but nag him about how he should be "_up on current events,_" and know the status of the Middle East, find out what the latest economic crisis is or how the internet is controlling humanity's free will or something.

Sure, beyond the awesome, wonderfully urbanized landscape of Northern America and the still-thriving rural beauty of the southern and more western states, the world was still in bad shape as it always would be. Behind the beauty of the skyscrapers there was still a suffering world. Not so much in America anymore, since the Union Act of 2080 (_or was it 2090?_ Darryl wondered), but in other countries. Darryl remembered seeing it on the news when he was twelve. A major terrorist attack, one of the last surviving extremist groups from the Middle East, bombarded sections of Palestine and Israel for weeks. Darryl never asked his parents why it happened, never cared to ask – it was fear – that was the only thing he could remember coming from those looping scenes on the TV, those unending explosions recurring like they were caught in an endless reel. Darryl watched them that whole week. He was disgusted how an entire country could fall to waste just because of one group's immense hatred. They had no ideals anymore: no ideals except to strike fear and terror into everyone they could. The thought made Darryl want to puke.

When it came down to it, that was why he hated current events so much – they made him think about the bombs.

_The best way to kill something that can't die, to kill an idea, is to ignore it. _He heard that in a movie once, he thought. Or from someone famous. He couldn't recall.

--

He was sitting alone at lunch that day. He hadn't made too many new friends since school had started. His father was constantly telling him that moving away from New York could be an adventure. It did nothing but make Darryl feel less safe. New York was so peaceful and so on-the-move, it was like the beating heart of the world, pumping life into all markets and all other individual countries. Something about that top-of-the-world status made Darryl feel much safer, ironically. He ate his sandwich in peace, reflecting on how life could have been if he'd stayed.

_I might've been just as bored, _he said to himself, taking a bite out of the processed egg salad. _Still, at least I'd be bored with some people I knew._

The periods drudged past like a creature without legs, digging its nails into the laminate floor hoping to make it to somewhere the pain could end. It never did. The stale air, the teacher's drone, it was all unbearable. He prayed to whatever God was listening, underneath the scratching chalk cutting numbers and equations into the board, that it all could end. That he could be taken away, like he was meant for something more than this. Or at least that he could be taken away to a more interesting class.

The one thing that was even remotely interesting that day was history, strangely enough. The class had just started on the chapter of Japan Pre-2080, which was incredibly boring. Japan was heading the technological market, coming up with more and more innovative ideas by the month, and was the leading country in technological design and engineering. But the teacher, Mr. Allen, went on to a whole other topic.

"As an aside," he began, removing his glasses and leaning forward on the desk, as if preparing to speak secretively. "Have your parents ever talked to you about the Reign of Kira?"

Some kids raised their hands, but most of the class was clueless. "Ciara? Who's she?" one kid asked.

"Kira's something your parents probably weren't alive to remember, and _he's _something your grandparents probably wouldn't want to remember. It's been just over a hundred years since it all began, but some still like to think of it as 'just a legend.' It's their way of trying to hush it up."

Darryl sat up for the first time in months. He closed his laptop, leaned into the heel of his hand and never broke concentration.

Around that time, Japan was at its all-time highest in criminality. Darryl, once again, began to remember the bombs. Nothing _that_ drastic occurred back then of course, but crime, corruption, all of it was at its apex. Rapists running loose on the streets because of a lack of evidence, robbers going on with their so-called lives, murderers being sentenced for parole again and again.

Until Kira surfaced to take action. There is no record of how it was done, no record of the weapon or management of the murders, but his name still lives on as one of the most confusing, baffling, and longest-running criminals of all-time.

One-by-one, he began to kill criminals off like flies. Though, the most interesting thing is that he did not kill them directly. Whether he had some (or many) others doing the work for him or not, he would kill off all the criminals by having them die of heart attacks. How he did this was either never discovered or never revealed, but the teacher decided not to continue on that subject. Once a few kids began to question what his motives were, and why someone isn't continuing his Reign, he closed the topic from debate.

"I think that's enough for now, guys." He put his glasses back on and opened up his tablet. "Let's start on section one of the chapter."

But Darryl never once stopped thinking about it. This "Kira." What kind of a person was he? What did he want? Did he have some direct, personal vendetta against criminals, or was he simply enthralled at the thought of killing those he saw as lesser than himself? Was it something overnight, or something that gathered itself, collecting the pieces for years at a time until one day it decided to take shape and unleash itself upon Japan, and then the world.

Who was Kira? More importantly, though – who was the man behind the idea?

There was still something that hung in the back of his mind as he pondered the person behind all of this, something that nagged him until he couldn't bear to contain it from his curiosity anymore.

_How did he do it?_

--

**Welcome home, Master Darryl. How was school?**

"It was like it always is, Dael – makes me want to kill myself." Darryl threw his bag on his bed and sat at his computer desk. The system spoke again from his bedside clock.

**Message **

**From: your father. Accept?**

"Can you just tell me the gist of it? Did he need something?"

**Information: Extracting… No. He did not need anything. He simply asks if all is well.**

"I can answer him back later. Dael, I need a favor."

**Command: waiting…**

"I want you to look up information on the 'Kira' case."

**Command: Confirmed. Processing… **

**Security Question: Is this school-related? Information contains content which may be inappropriate. **

"Yeah, my history teacher brought it up in class today. It – caught my attention."

**Information: Found. Open which source?**

Darryl thought for a moment. "All of them."

Darryl hardly slept. Everything he read about the Kira case haunted him, but intrigued him. He stared up at the ceiling, lying on his bed, just thinking, thinking like his brain had been sleeping for ages and just now lit up like a wildfire. The teacher kept referring to Kira as a "mass murderer." Darryl did not see him as such anymore. He saw Kira's true intentions: to rid the world of crime, and to pass righteous judgment upon the world.

In the five or so years that Kira had reigned, wars had ceased. Crime in Japan was almost extinct, for those who were criminals were already being killed off, and those who were smart saw the judgment which was being passed on to the others and ended their criminal ways. Kira wasn't evil. Kira was justice.

"Justice…" Darryl whispered to himself before drifting off into the netherworld of sleep. Then the bombs came back. "…the world could use some of that now…"

--

**Log: 9.18.2123**

**7:45AM**

**Friday**

**Wake up, Master Darryl. Your father is waiting downstairs.**

_7:45? Christ! _Darryl thought to himself. He remembered he was off from school, but he had forgotten that his ID was due to be renewed today. He quickly snatched his clothes, threw them on and ran downstairs.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Darryl, slow down!" his father urged. He was dressed in his work clothing (jacket and tie), and was halfway through his coffee. Darryl noticed his father wasn't entirely ready to leave, just relaxing with his paper, which was sprawled out across the dining room table. "What's the rush?"

"Isn't-isn't my ID due for renewal today?"

"Hah, yeah, but not for another hour and a half. Slow down, you should learn to trust your DAEL more than your instincts." Darryl plopped himself down at a chair, almost causing his father's coffee to spill. He had never been the most graceful person.

"Yeah, I know. I'm never too trusting of technology. I mean, have you read some of those old, old stories? Like, you know, machine gets created by man, becomes self-aware, kills man and takes over the Earth. You know like…Antirov--something…what was his name?"

"Asimov. Still, Darryl, Logging Machines like the DAEL aren't artificially intelligent! They're just machines designed to obey their owners and log information. They're bedside search engines, and last time I checked, those can't kill anyone."

Darryl chuckled. His father was right. He gets too paranoid sometimes. Still, there are always antagonistic aspects to everything, and he tended to take those sides. Life, if anything, taught him to expect the worst.

As he sat back in the chair, staring through the window facing the road he took to schoool, images of Kira and the New World he proclaimed went through his head again. It brought him to a strange realm of peace, like Kira was his escape from the world. He really had no idea why he was so enthralled by those years they deemed the Reign of Kira. There was just something eerily calming about it, and something so mystically omnipresent. Like everything fell into place perfectly for Darryl to learn of it.

_It can't be an accident._

--

Darryl and his father, after an hour, made their way to the front of the line. Like all federal offices, the American Citizen Identification Department was infamous for long lines, especially since there was never a day when it was closed, and never a day where someone didn't need their ID renewed or made. Darryl wondered at one point who would want to work on holidays in this God-awful place.

He fidgeted impatiently the entire wait, his necktie choking him each time his father attempted to pull it up into place. At times he found himself pacing left and right, almost bumping into the metal divider or the person behind them if he lost footing. At last, they made their way to the booth.

"Hi, how can I help you?" the ACID attendant asked indifferently. Darryl knew she didn't care. She was going home with a pay check; so as long as she did her job, what did she care if she was friendly about it?

"Hi, this is Darryl Hunter. He's up for renewal today."

"Hold up your right arm and hand me your card, please."

Darryl's father pulled Darryl's ID from his own wallet and placed it under the booth's divider while Darryl held his right arm outward, facing the left side of his wrist towards the ceiling. The woman ran the card through a scanner while the reader on the ceiling fed the information into his wrist-ID, which was implanted into his bone. He found it strange that, when he first got the procedure, it was actually painless. One would think drilling a nanochip into a bone would sting quite a bit.

_Thank God for modern science, I guess. _Darryl chuckled to himself as the woman handed back his card to his father.

"Go to your right to get your photo taken for your new ID. It will be mailed to you in a few weeks, until then your old card will be valid if you need it."

"Yes, we know, thank you for your kindness." Darryl's father remarked sarcastically. Darryl snorted, attempting to contain a full-blown laugh. The woman glared at him, as if laughter were not allowed in the office.

Darryl and his father moved towards the photo-booths, which were simply digital cameras in areas separated by blue sheets. Darryl sat himself down on one as his father slid his newly validated ID through the camera's reader. The camera lit green on its timer and counted down from 3. 2. 1.

The camera took the picture. Darryl got up groggily from the seat. After an hour of standing he was grateful for those fifteen seconds, but they were not enough. He needed to sit down. The car was five or six blocks away, and he wasn't looking forward to the walk.

"Hey, Dad?" Darryl asked. "Can we go to the roof, please? I feel like I need some air."

"Oh, God yes," his father replied. "I was thinking the exact same thing."

--

_They still cackle, still taunt. As long as they kill, they have all the time they could ask for – so why are they impatient? _

_The notebook is slipping. My slender fingers lessen their grip little by little every moment, toying with the time I have left._

_I'm still waiting for that reason. It still hasn't come. The note will fall when I decide._

_And I don't need a reason to tell me when the end will come._

--

They made their way up to the seventh floor of the building and climbed the centered stairs to the roof. There was nothing up there but a fence around the edges, a few benches along the sides, and a vending machine for sodas and snack bars. Darryl took a seat on one of the benches beside his father. They both looked up at the clear sky, the breeze catching their hair in its run.

"Tell you what," Darryl's father said. "I'll go get the car and bring it up front. I'll honk three times so you'll know it's me. Take your time coming down, Ok? We've got nowhere to be."

"Okay, thanks Dad." Darryl shot a weak smile back. His father disappeared behind him as he descended the stairs. He filled his lungs with cold air, letting them expand to their fullest before releasing his stress with the wind.

Darryl got up again, seemingly restless now. He moved his way to the edge of the building, curious about the world beneath him. He looked down and saw several parked cars at the front of the building, a few angry and bewildered customers about to enter, and several very dissatisfied ones leaving. As he looked out towards the town, he noticed there was not a single building as high as the one on which he stood. The tallest one he could see was about four or five stories, but no more. While The Carrows was a nice town, it was far from New York. Darryl missed the buzz of car horns as they echoed to his window from some distant backstreet, the "dirty water" hot dogs which his father despised, the ever-moving Times Square. All of it.

Then he remembered how scary New York was. How dark it could really get at night. How people would come right up to your face, begging for money, then demanding it. How, as a child, Darryl's only protection was his father's coattails. He held on to them as the people went off in their own directions, ignoring the man passively threatening him. There was a dark side to everything.

Then he remembered Kira again.

_Is this what he saw? _He asked himself.

--

_The reason never came. I didn't hear a voice, a breeze. Nothing. Nothing came._

_The Note still fell._

--

Darryl lost his train of thought as he heard something fall onto the gravel behind him. Had someone come onto the roof for air as well? He hadn't heard any feet coming up the stairs. Darryl turned around, but saw no one. He looked down on the ground before him, and on the gravel lay a black book.

_Where did this come from? _Darryl asked as he bent to pick it up. There was no one up here to throw it, and the likeliness that it fell from a plane was slim at best. Darryl picked it up and turned it over to read the cover.

_DEATH NOTE._

_Huh, weird title,_ Darryl thought. It wasn't a very thick book, but it felt heavy, for whatever reason he couldn't explain. He opened to the first page, but there was no copyright, or even a table of contents. They were blank, black pages. _Strange._

He flipped to the next page. There was writing on this one, just not the plain-font writing he expected. It was a silver-like color, similar to the title, and it said:

_How To Use:_

Darryl read the next line, and his heart leapt into his throat.

_The human whose name is written on this note shall die._

Darryl's heart pounded more violently with each pulse. Was this book real? No. No way. This had to be some sick, unfunny prank. Still, Darryl kept on reading.

_This note will not take effect unless the writer has the person's face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected._

Whoever made this up is pretty clever. He kept going.

_If the cause of death is written within 40 seconds of writing the person's name, it will happen._

Is—Is this…No, no it...it can't- The next line sent Darryl reeling with amazement.

_If the cause of death is not specified, the person will simply die of a heart attack._

_THIS IS IT!! _Darryl shouted in his head, holding the book up to his eyes in astonishment, the black binding absorbing the light of the sun. He knew it now, without a doubt_. This is the weapon of Kira!_

Darryl shot a glance at the roof, checking to see if anyone noticed him. He had forgotten he was alone in that instant of mingled joy and disbelief. His shirt was ruffled, his hair was a mess, and he was beginning to break in a sweat. His eyes locked onto the pages of the book called _DEATH NOTE_, and they could hardly tear away. Through some miracle, through some act of God, Darryl wound up with the very tool Kira used to build his utopia.

Through the silence of his ecstasy broke the three blaring notes of his father's car horn. He had lost all sense of time and jumped at the sound. He had to get down there, but he couldn't let anyone see the note. He un-tucked the back of his shirt, shoved the _DEATH NOTE _inside and tucked the shirt back into his pants. He hurried down the stairs to the elevator, hitting and missing the DOWN button a few times before it was pressed. His whole body trembled. He had to read all the rules before he rushed into anything. He had to hide the Note. He had to figure it all out.

Figure out what to do with this black book.

--

_How long should I wait? How long do I have? I let loose a single chuckle._

_All the time in the world._

_No reason to hurry. No reason at all._

--

The ride back was excruciating. At times he caught his father glancing at him through the rear-view mirror. There was no way he could know about the book called _DEATH NOTE_, but Darryl was still terribly paranoid. And who could blame him? He was holding the world's most dangerous, most effective weapon. If it's even real, he doubted to himself.

Upon entering his room and sitting down at the desk, he called out again to the words which echoed through his mind.

_The human whose name is written on this note shall die._

This needed to be tested. As soon as possible. There was a chance that the Note could really be an incredibly elaborate joke. He had to find a target.

He ran to his closet and grabbed his bag, tearing the DEATH NOTE out from his tucked shirt and throwing it into the bag.

**Question: What book is that, Master Darryl?**

_DAEL!_ Darryl thought to himself. His heart once again lodged into his throat. He had entirely forgotten about her. She had security feeds linked directly to his father's office. It wasn't safe to do anything here.

"It-It's some book I found. It's called, uh," Darryl reached into his bag as if to look at the book, but in reality he was thinking of a lie. Perhaps a book he had heard of in school. What was the one his teacher just…

"_Songs of Experience_. It's some kind of abridged edition. I saw it on the ground and picked it up. I didn't want Dad to see it, just in case he thought I stole it."

**Statement: I would not think your father would see you as one to steal, Master Darryl.**

She bought it.

Thinking quickly, Darryl walked over to his desk and opened the bottom drawer, rummaging through old toys he'd thrown in there to avoid actually cleaning his room. He clawed at the back until, at last, he'd pulled out a pen. He hadn't used one of them in ages, not since he got the laptop. He clicked the button and scribbled on the palm of his hand to test the ink, which was still fresh.

"I'm going to head over to school and see if anyone's there I can study with. Talk to you later, DAEL."

**Take care, Master Darryl.**

--

_Who should be the first?_ Darryl thought to himself as he walked down Third Street, the _DEATH NOTE_ in his bag. _No, no. I'm moving too fast! First I should find somewhere to read the rules. All of them. Anywhere's fine as long as I keep the book inside a magazine or something. Or, wait…_

Darryl sat himself down on the bench alongside the playground on Third Street. He was right near the bus stop which would take him towards school. The buses only came on the half hour, so Darryl figured he had a whole twenty minutes to read. He looked both ways. The street was almost completely empty; no cars were parked, even. There were only a few mothers with their children in the playground behind him. He took out the DEATH NOTE and bent the book over the cover to block the title from view. Flipping to the first page of the rules, he read over those first four paragraphs again.

_The human whose name is written on this note shall die._

_This note will not take effect unless the writer has the person's face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected._

_If the cause of death is written within 40 seconds of writing the person's name, it will happen._

_If the cause of death is not specified, the person will simply die of a heart attack._

And on this first page of rules, there was another one which Darryl must have skipped over in excitement:

_Details of the death should be written down in the next 6 minutes and 40 seconds_.

What did this mean, precisely? Exact details surrounding the death can be explained? Can a victim be controlled before their deaths? Could it possibly--

Just then, Darryl felt a sudden pain in his shin. He was so enthralled by the pages of the book that he'd forgotten to check his surroundings. He looked up to see the face of Barry Halbright. He was the school "bully" by all accounts, only far worse than the title merited. He was a pure sadist. He enjoyed nothing but the suffering of kids in the school – and by his hands alone.

"Well, look here, it's the new kid." Barry said, drilling his index finger into Darryl's scalp, his followers laughing like hyenas being tugged by their navels. "What're you doing? Studying? Pfeh, please, you're lucky I'm still buzzed from last night, otherwise I'd be walking all up-and-down on your ass. Think you're so cool since you're dad's with the government? What an asshole!"

Darryl did nothing but stare up into Barry's empty eyes. He had no fear of him. None. Luckily, he'd never been subjected to Barry's tortures, and if all went as he'd hoped, no one ever would again.

_Barry,_ Darryl smiled. _You will be the first to know the judgment of the DEATH NOTE._

Darryl threw the folded-over _DEATH NOTE_ into his open bag, tossed the bag over his shoulder and walked away from the stop, away from those cackling tormentors.

"Yeah, Hunter! Keep walking! There's nothing you can do! Haha! Go read your stupid book somewhere else!"

Darryl reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen. Once he was out of sight, he opened the _DEATH NOTE_ to the first blank white page. He checked his watch. 2:25:02. He took his pen, called to mind Barry's pig-like face, and wrote while continuing to walk:

_Barry Halbright._

_I should take this time to test the Note's full effects_, he thought to himself. Beneath the name, he wrote:

_At 2:28 exactly, he is killed in a traffic accident_.

He clicked the pen and placed it back into his pocket, checking his watch: 2:26:59 exactly. Just over 60 seconds now. He continued to walk; his heart was racing. He couldn't help but smirk gleefully as he walked towards school. He could hear Barry shouting obnoxiously as his friends continued to laugh as if they lived only to praise his antics.

Darryl kept walking, but with each step, he grew more doubtful.

2:27:58.

_Ugh, why am I bothering?_ Darryl thought to himself.

2:27:59.

_There's no way this is real. I'm fooling myself._

2:28:00.

_There's no reason to think any of this is real--  
_

There was a deafening scream of a horn and a loud _crash_! Broken glass flickered onto the pavement, and shouts of terror echoed down the street.

Darryl gasped. He had to stop himself to not dare turn around. He had to act as conspicuous as possible. With a smile stretching from ear-to-ear, he continued on to school.

_It's real. The DEATH NOTE is real!_ He kept walking. The shouts still echoed.

--

_The cacklers have all left now. I dropped the Note, so they don't care. They won the bet, I lost. What reason is there to stay?_

"_None," I say outloud. My wings unfurl themselves from under my long arms, gray feathers releasing themselves to the stagnant air._

_Reason does not tell me it's time to leave. I tell myself. I let my balance go, and release myself to the humans._

_To their reasons._

--

Walking home from school at night felt a whole lot scarier now. Darryl darted his eyes at every cross-street as if hunting for prowlers, regardless of The Carrows being virtually without criminals. It was too upper-class. The only criminals in this neighborhood were embezzlers.

_And possibly hitmen_, Darryl always joked to himself.

Once arriving at his house, Darryl made his way up to his room and turned on the lights.

**Log: 9.18.2123**

**9:10PM**

**Friday**

**Good evening, Master Darryl.**

"Hey, Dael." He placed his bag on his bed and began to undress.

**Question Are you going to bed now?**

"Yeah, actually," Darryl threw on an old, baggy T-shirt for bed. "Long day, actually got some studying done."

**Very well. Good night, Master Darryl. Shut down Terminus?**

"Sure, thanks." The Dael turned off Darryl's desktop, effectively shutting off its own networking functions. Until 7:45 tomorrow, or until the computer was turned back on, it was just a clock.

Darryl ripped the _DEATH NOTE_ out of his bag and opened to the first white page to see the names he'd written. Beneath Barry Halbright's were exactly one hundred others. Darryl felt like he'd never done so much writing in his whole life, and he most likely hadn't. Paper-and-hand writing was a rarity with computers being assigned even in public schools. Some schools, like Darryl's, removed paper completely to aid the Global Warming Commission. Before the _DEATH NOTE_ became a factor, Darryl thought having less paper to print and waste was a great idea. Now it was nothing but a hindrance. Without the ability to print, he would have to get virtually all his information straight from the display on the computer.

He brought to mind the plan he concocted in the computer center.

_The Union's 100 Most Wanted List is public information_, he recalled. _These will be the first to be killed. The only problem is, once all one hundred have been killed, the internet will surely be on lockdown to all users, registered or otherwise. I'll have to kill a certain amount a day – let's say 20._

Then he remembered that the _DEATH NOTE_ could control the time of a person's death.

_Could it also control the date?_

So he wrote down all one hundred names at once, face by face, letter by letter from number 100 to number 1. He set the last twenty people on the list to be killed tomorrow afternoon, then the next twenty the next day, et cetera. The final twenty would be killed on the fifth day, and hopefully will give the Union the idea that the restricted access would not stop the persistence of Kira.

_Riots and protests will have caused so much of a stir by then that the internet will have to come back up. Then, the Reign will truly begin_.

Beneath the lamplight the new Kira smiled maliciously. He went over each name again and again, reciting his first victims to himself. This was only the beginning. He may not be the mastermind that Kira was, but Darryl would do his best to live up to the legacy.

"_So_," rang a sinister voice from behind Darryl, its tone piercing into the back of his neck. "_This is where my Note wound up?_"

--

--

_There is a thing that I know that does it better than me._

_And I haven't wanted to be all the things I could be._


	2. Chapter 2: Motivations

Chapter Two:

Motivations

Darryl threw his whole body around in utter shock to behold the monster which stood behind him. It was much taller than anyone he'd encountered, at least seven to eight feet tall, with grey wings which folded beneath his arms. His eyes were large, with deep blue irises. They never blinked, not once. Just drilled into Darryl's without rest, as if digging past the surface to see beneath with complete ease. The creature's solemn look never seemed to change, it just stayed sullen, the creature's sharp teeth gleaming in the lamplight as they poked out from its mouth.

Darryl tried his best not to scream, but the reality was that he was beyond fear. He was in such a state of shock and disbelief that he did not have the power to draw air and release it. He was paralyzed, his neck eternally thrown back in astonishment. The demon just stood there. It seemed – Darryl could not pin down its emotion. Its countenance was so unmoving that he was not sure whether the creature was sad, disappointed, or just plain bored. The thing could be ecstatic for all he knew, but the face did not show

--

_This is where the Note fell? In the hands of this child? Of all the places it could have fallen, a human fledgling picked it up. This one in particular._

_I can't say I'm amused, or even shocked. Everything is coincidence here, just as everything is nothing where I call home. Numbers and names repeat themselves over and over in short times or past decades and humans somehow see the 'meaning' in them. There is no meaning behind repetition._

_Still, I looked at this one's face. Not the numbers, not the name. The face was all I could see for once._

--

"_So, you're Darryl, then? And you found my Note_."

Darryl's heart leapt. "How do you know my name?"

The demon pointed to his still-open door, with his name printed clearly on the front. In the bewilderment, Darryl completely forgot just how accessible that was.

"What are you doing in my room?"

"_Wouldn't the better question be 'who are you, and what are you doing in my room?'_"

"Fine," Darryl said, using his chair to get himself back on his feet. "Who are you, and why are you here?"

"_Who I am is Xeonihl. What I am is a Death God, and that is my notebook. I see you've been busying yourself with it._"

"A God of Death?!" Darryl was surprised at just how non-violent this creature seemed to be. It was as if the thing didn't care, as if…he….was simply sitting back and letting everything unfold before him. "You still haven't told me why you're here."

"_Never ask me 'why.'_" Though the God's tone changed, his expression did not. "_WHAT I am doing here, however, is really none of your concern. If you must know, if you need a reason - I have come for the Note._"

Darryl's chest seemed to deflate. He knew it from the beginning. This Death God was the reason he'd found the Note to begin with. He wasn't worthy enough to hold this weapon, to harness the power of Kira. He was nobody, and the Death God came to take his once chance at being something away. Darryl stood up weakly from his chair and held the _DEATH NOTE _up to the God.

"Go ahead," he said, averting his eyes in shame. "I didn't deserve this to begin with. No human does."

The Death God looked into Darryl's face and laughed. Just once, but it was enough to get his point across. He lifted a single, slender finger and pushed the black book back towards Darryl's chest.

"_You misunderstand me._" Xeonihl looked once more at the Note he dropped. "_I'm not here to take the Note. I've come here to watch it._"

Darryl looked for the first time into the God's eyes. "I-I don't understand."

"_Once a Death Note falls into your world, it belongs to your world. It's no longer my responsibility. Once you picked it up, it became your burden. The only thing I am obligated to do is to follow it until you either give it up or die._"

"Wait," Darryl placed the Note on his desk and sat back in his chair, readying himself for the plethora of information he knew he was about to receive. "So you dropped this _DEATH NOTE _into our world with the knowledge that you'd have to follow me around the whole time and do nothing about it?"

The Death God laughed once again.

"_Well it's not like I had anything better to do. Besides, I lost a bet._"

"A bet? With whom? Are there more of you?!"

"_There are more Death Gods, yes. I've never bothered to count them, but there are quite a few. They all have so much time on their hands and so little to do, so they usually just wind up gambling or idling away the time doing nothing. I found myself gambling, I lost the bet – and here I am, my DEATH NOTE in the hands of a human._"

There were still so many questions Darryl felt were left to be answered. A great many that he forgot in the heat of the moment, and some he never thought of to begin with. Still, there was one question that remained at the tip of his tongue the whole time. Hopefully this Death God – Xeonihl, could answer it.

"How did Kira get a _DEATH NOTE_?"

--

_Kira? That name sounds so familiar. I'd heard it before amongst the others. _

_They cackled, like always, but whenever that name was mentioned especially. Another name always came right after it. It was a common name. One of us._

_Who was it?_

--

"_Kira is the one who used the Note to kill off the criminals of your world, right?_"

"Yes! That's him!" Darryl became wide-eyed with enthusiasm. Perhaps this Death God really did have all the answers.

"_There have been many, many instances where Death Notes have fallen into your world. Before him, if I recall, no one used the Note for the needs of others. Only for themselves. Kira is the one the other laugh about in my world. The one they call the Selfless One. His actions flow through the Eternity..._"

"You still haven't answered my question, Xeonihl." It was the first time Darryl dared to use the God's name. The creature didn't seem to react at all, despite Darryl being clearly nervous about what might have happened. "How did he get the Note?"

"_Ryuk_." Xeonihl took a moment to recall. "_A Death God named Ryuk dropped his Note. It fell, and Kira picked it up. That's all._"

"That's all?!" Darryl stood up in anger. "That CAN'T be all! Kira wasn't some random victim of your meaningless games! He must have been chosen! It was destiny! Just like it was destiny that I found _your_ Note!"

Xeonihl simply stood there, looking into the boy's furious eyes. Apparently he had struck a nerve by implying that there was no reason behind Kira's "chosen" status.

Darryl, still standing in the same position, looked beyond the eyes of the Death God. Looked back to some time in his life. It felt like centuries had passed since then. He was still in New York, he was young. He held on to his father's coattails as the man began to shove, then raise his voice.

Next he was on the couch, watching the bombs go off at an hour too late for a schoolboy to be awake.

Next he was in school, sitting at a clunky old desk, staring off into the grey, rain-hurling sky. He hoped someone would walk through the rain.

Walk through and take him away.

"_I see you've been doing a lot of work with this Note. How long has it been for you? A day? Less? Already over a hundred names in here."_

Darryl hadn't even noticed Xeonihl moving. He was holding the Note in one of his clawed hands, flipping through the few pages with ink on them.

"_Am I to assume these, too, are criminals?_"

"Yes, they are. I got the note for one reason – to continue Kira's Reign. To breathe life back into the legacy."

"_That can't be all._" He closed the book and placed it back on the desk, turning his eerie gaze back upon Darryl. "_You humans are never satisfied with just one explanation. There's another._"

Darryl thought again about the rain. The hooded man from some other land reaching out his hand to pull him away from the grey, from the dullness, and take him to a land of color. Some world untouched. A world he could call his own. He was meant for more than this world had to offer.

"There's nothing else."

"_Alright._" Xeonihl saw right through him.

Darryl sat at his desk and ran his fingers through his black hair. He sighed, thinking over the situation at hand.

"Is there something here I'm not aware of? Something about the Note, or about anything at all, that you haven't told me?"

"_Nothing that should concern you now._" Xeonihl moved. "_One thing I've found with humans who obtain their own Notes – they learn everything there is to know when the time is right for them to learn it. Never before._

"_All of the rules concerning the DEATH NOTE are written in those first pages. That's all you need to know right now._"

"One thing still confuses me, though. There really _is _no setback to using the Note, is there? No price to pay. Nothing?"

"_The only real price is the one you pay the instant you touch it – to bear the responsibilities and consequences of using it. The frustration and difficulty it will bring you to hide it and use it alone will be the cost."_

Darryl, feeling secure with this Death God at last, allowed himself to yawn. "If I go to sleep now, you're not going to kill me are you?"

"_What reason would I have to?_"

Darryl fell onto his bed and tucked his arms beneath his head, staring into the darkness, Xeonihl standing at the foot of his bed.

"None." He closed his eyes. "None at all, I guess."

--

_I remember some age before this a Death God spoke of the consequences of humans using the Note. He said it brings them great suffering and agony. _

_He also mentioned that one creative Death God decided to include that, if a human were to use it, they would be denied access to any kind of life after death. Good or bad. _

_I decided not to include that. There is only me, there is only Death. Some humans understand that truth._

_No reason not to give this one the comfort of a lie._

--

**Log: 9.19.2123**

**7:45AM**

**Saturday**

**Good morning, Master Darryl.**

"_So what is this thing supposed to do?_" rang the hoarse voice of the Death God.

_JESUS! _Darryl jumped at the question, tossing his sheets off and getting instantly to his feet.

"HI, DAEL!" Darryl tried his best to drown out any sound Xeonihl might be making. The Death God just stood in front of the bedside device, staring at it, trying to see its function. "Lovely morning, isn't it? I love how _quiet _it is!" He stared directly into the Death God's glowing eyes at the last line accusingly.

**Statement: Yes, it must be rather nice out. 75 degrees Farenheit, partly cloudy, slight breeze from the south-west.**

"_I wouldn't be too worried if I were you, D—_" Darryl jumped up and down, waving his arms intensely to try and get the Death God to shut up. It was after his third jump that he realized…

"Dael…you didn't hear anything just now—did you?"

**Question: Hear what? Birds? Men working on the house next door, perhaps?**

"_As long as no one else touches the DEATH NOTE, no one else can see or hear me. Just you. One of the few things I said you would learn when the time was right._"

"Uh—Nothing, Dael." Darryl wiped his forehead in relief, then looked at Xeonihl in a flash of anger. "Just my imagination, I guess."

--

"So, you're sure no one will be able to see you."

"_Unless they touch the Note in your bag. If that happens, they'll be able to see and hear me as clearly as you do now._"

Darryl walked slowly along the empty road. The morning was cool with the breeze. He was in no hurry to be anywhere. Not yet, at least.

"_So where are you going?_"

Darryl checked his watch. 12:45:30.

"Just taking a walk for now. Going around the mall for a while." Darryl turned his head slightly to see Xeonihl hovering slightly above ground, seemingly floating without even flapping his wings. "Then, we'll see the birth of the New World."

--

Darryl sat on the bench facing the big vidscreen above the arcade. His bag rested beneath his seat, Xeonihl stood directly behind him, looking at everyone that passed by in the crowded mall. Darryl checked his watch. 2:28:00. Just two minutes now. His laptop rested on his lap, checking all the most popular newsfeeds he could think of. CNN, NBC, all of them were up and running, his pointer resting above the "Reload" button.

"_So where's this New World you've been waiting for?_"

Darryl brought his voice to a whisper, just low enough to not be heard by passers-by, but loud enough for Xeonihl's ears.

"Xeonihl," he began, checking his watch again. "In Kira's time, doing things subtly was perfectly fine. The world began to notice his existence in a matter of weeks or so, once the criminals stacked higher.

"In this world, however," he checked his watch again. 2:29:45. "I've found that in order to get attention, you need to rock the foundations from the start."

2:30:00.

Darryl hit his mousepad, causing all of his web pages to reload. In that instant, a live webstream was placed on each of them.

_Newsfeeds. _He thought. _Perfect._

At the same time, the vidscreen above the arcade, along with all of the other vidscreens in the mall, went to a "Breaking News" flash.

Xeonihl chuckled once. Darryl smiled maliciously. The reporters for each respective broadcast introduced a live, breaking story in development, and at 2:31, the cameras all switched to the scene at the capitol building in New York.

A man, about forty or fifty years old with graying hair and a pug-face stood in front of the cameras, guns pointed to his head. He remained perfectly still, as if in control of the entire situation. The cameras were all without supports since the reporters were barely given any time to set up before the man started to speak.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began. "My name is Patrick DeRosa. I am currently on the Union's Most Wanted list, numbered at 100. I have come to you today to tell you of an old, forgotten story. Many of the older men and women of this society will remember the name, but others will not. Some will recognize it and remember a time of fear, a time of control, and most importantly – a time of peace.

"The world governments today have tried their best to silence the name by ignoring it, to destroy the identity by forgetting it ever existed. I have come to you today to tell you – the idea is far from gone, and will no longer be ignored. Kira has returned."

Every single person in the mall, huddled together watching the several vidscreens throughout the strip, burst into discussion. Some gasped, but others were confused.

_Most of these people wouldn't remember. _Darryl kept a discreet smile. _But soon, all will know._

"I am the messenger." DeRosa continued. "I am here to bring the name back to the people, bring back that time of peace. Criminals will have nowhere to run, no place to hide, no country to call home. This afternoon, the old world will know the message of Kira. This afternoon – the New World will begin."

At those last words, the man grabbed his chest, tearing at his clothes. His face grimaced, and with one last gasp, he fell over. The first victim of Kira was dead.

_It's begun. _Darryl kept smiling. He listened to the voices of the shocked customers and shoppers, all of them confused. All of them scared.

_Don't worry. I'm in control, now._

--

**_Patrick DeRosa_**

**_At 2:00, he goes to the capitol building in New York, revealing and proving his identity. He allows for the police to apprehend him and requests to speak publicly on all news networks, wishing to share information on the future of criminality._**

**_At 2:30, with or without permission, DeRosa manages to get on a breaking news segment, and announces to the world the rebirth of Kira. The moment he says "The New World will begin," he dies of a heart attack._**

--

I remember watching the newsflash in astonishment two days ago. The man had collapsed, his face twisted and writhing in pain. Dead in an instant. The men with guns behind him ran to check his pulse while the reporters and camera-workers all gasped and shouted in confusion. It was bedlam, the chaos that arises at the start of every rule.

History has a fondness for repeating itself, I tell myself.

No, this Kira is different, he replies. Not nearly as subtle.

A taste for the dramatic, sure.

More than that. This one wants to be noticed, and immediately.

I scanned over all the documents I loaded, glancing at key words, dates, names.

Same kind of death. Heart attack.

Of course. The method and style of deaths would not change, that's the fingerprint of Kira on the world – that doesn't mean the killer _himself _is the same. Times change.

I scrolled again over the deaths. Forty in the past two days.

Nothing changes, I said.

Of course, he replied. It's been how many years, and you're still talking to yourself?

We both laughed.

Twenty more will die today, I said. The next twenty up on the list.

Again, he wants to be noticed. Once the top one-hundred are gone, he'll start with the petty criminals – more of them per day.

It was a clever plan, I guess. With the internet down, no one would be able to access the names. They're still dying.

He must have other sources, he said.

It's possible, but not likely. The internet's the only place to easily obtain that information. Otherwise, you'd need to check a book on the world's most infamous living criminals. I don't suspect anyone would be willing to hunt for one of those.

So what do you think?

I kept scanning the names. Heart attacks. Every one of them.

Get a list of every death twenty-four hours prior to DeRosa's. There's something that's not here that would give me some clue. The Union's too big of a place to start looking for Kira. He could be in any one of the countries.

The fact that DeRosa was killed in New York might be some kind of a clue.

Or a red herring.

My fingers rapped over the keyboard, drawing up all the latest information on deaths in America in the past twenty-four hours. Reported cases, criminals and non-criminals alike. Anything that stood out.

Anything.

Then something struck me.

This new Kira is not an adult.

Heh, he said. What makes you think that?

It's an educated guess, but I'm sure it's the case. Firstly, no senior citizen would have the energy to plan out something of this scale, no matter how small it is in reality. Secondly, purely from a monetary standpoint, adults rely on the internet to make money. Transactions, account information, it's all on there. Some people even have their entire life savings placed into it. Not to mention that their generation grew up in a time where Kira was intentionally hushed as much as possible. The shame was still fresh, and even those born after the Reign would have understood it.

However, he began finishing my sentence. Once an idea has been ignored for a long time, it's bound to come up once more – with the younger generation.

Children are impressionable. They hear something they consider "cool," or something that in the slightest intrigues them and, for a time at least, they follow it to the death. Only someone as moronically impressionable as a student, or at least a teenager, could attempt to reignite the flames Kira brought to the world.

The search just got a lot easier.

--

"_What happens if it fails?_"

"It won't. I'm sure of it." He whispered, as if talking to himself. He didn't want to alert Dael to anyone else in the room.

In truth, though, he wasn't so sure.

"_You're the one with the Note. If you have no reason to worry, then I don't care._"

Darryl flipped through the pages. It had been three days since the incident in New York. He was getting more impatient as the hours floated past. His finger hovered over the internet browser, checking to see if the continuing deaths of the criminals had caused the internet to be brought back up. The protests should have begun by now, violent or otherwise.

_No, _he thought to himself. _I can't let myself lose sleep over this._

"Dael, please shut down the Terminus. I've had enough of this restriction crap."

**Command: Shutting down. Good night, Master Darryl.**

Darryl sat on his bed dejectedly. Would his plan really work? He was convinced that it wouldn't. He wasn't some super-genius or brainiac who knew the inner-workings of the internet and its coding. He was running on a hunch, nothing more. He checked his watch: 10:02:11PM. It was pretty late.

_Still, _he said. _Before bed, I'd like to read all of the notes to the DEATH NOTE. I haven't yet read up on the full scope of its power._

As he flipped through the pages, he took note of the most important elements of each rule, noting them for future situations. Most of the rules which followed the primary ones Darryl knew of were regarding Gods of Death, like how they're not obligated to answer any questions, how they will follow an owner of the Note until they die or relinquish the book. However, as his eyes began to drift away from the letters, one rule caught his gaze. A rule he didn't know could exist. His heart jumped.

"Xeonihl," he said, closing the book and turning to face the hunching, towering God. "What are the Death God's eyes?"

"_They're exactly what you read about them. They allow you to see a person's lifespan and name simply by looking at them. It's one of the few things which separates a human from an actual Death God, besides the Note, of course._"

"And if I give up half of my life, I'll be able to see the names of all the criminals just by looking at them? I wouldn't even _need _the internet?"

"_No, probably not._"

"How much time do I have left?" Darryl asked so suddenly that Xeonihl stepped back a bit in surprise. "If you can see my lifespan, tell me how much I'd be giving up!"

"_Heh. If you'd read the rules in the Note just before that one instead of dozing off, you might've realized that my answer would be "No" before even asking._

"_A God of Death is an indifferent spectator in this game you humans play. I am not obligated, in any way, to tell you anything regarding the Note or regarding your lifespan. Additionally, because Gods are mere spectators, they do not play sides. I do not support the Note's user nor do I support his or her enemies. I could just as easily kill you as I could your rivals, whoever they may be._"

Darryl felt the air drain out of the room. For that instant, Darryl had never felt more alone. This was as close to lifelessness as he felt he'd ever come.

"_But, I won't._" Xeonihl laughed once again.

Darryl spent the next few moments in silence, just thinking about the benefits of the eyes. If he had them, he had almost nothing to worry about in the way of obstructing the Reign.Still, if he shortened his lifespan, the Reign itself could be cut short.

"Nevermind, Xeonihl." He placed the Note in his bag and began to drift off. "Time is too short in this world, and the Reign of Kira, for as long as I breathe, will thrive. No amount of aid is worth cutting the legacy short."

--

So, whoever he is, he's in the Carrows?

Yep. There's no doubt there.

What did you find that makes you jump to that far-fetched conclusion?

I checked over the files again, calling up one incident. I read aloud:

_Barry Halbright, 17, was killed Friday afternoon, September the Eighteenth, in the Carrows. He was passing the time with some friends when, tragically, he was killed in a traffic accident._

So? He sounded disappointed. To say that Kira, the world's most infamous mass-murderer, has come back from the grave and settled down in an upper-class urb in the middle of Virginia is hardly proven by the death of some high-school student.

Remember how I said that this new Kira was a child? Barry Halbright, here, has a few convictions on him. Driving under the influence. Assault. Mostly Juvi cases, but ones that warrant him both the titles of "criminal" and of "bully." This solidifies the theory that Kira is not an adult, and also, proves that he must be a student as well, one who possibly suffered Barry's wrath at one point or another.

But a _traffic accident _is hardly proof! If it was a heart attack, then fine, I'd fall to my knees and tell you to lead me, but this kid died in a _car accident!_

Not a car. I smiled with glee. A _bus._ The X09, to be exact.

He looked stunned. He took a step back to take it all in.

It must be Kira, he said.

I know.

There hasn't been a bus accident in the Union in twenty years! Was the bus being manually operated? Is there a chance--

No. I smiled again. It was an automatic-pilot malfunction.

He was the one smiling now.

He really is here, then?

Yes. He's right here, in the Carrows. Right under our noses. And I'm going to find him, and bring his Reign to an end.

For the first time in a long time, Cain laughed.

Roth, please, he said. You make yourself sound like the be-all-end-all of justice! Humor me, why don't you tell me why you're _really _interested in this Kira? Why you want to end his Reign.

As you wish, I bowed to my imaginary friend in reverence. I'm not going to end _Kira's _Reign, I'm going to end the reign of this undeserving student prick who thinks he's some chosen one sent to bring judgment to us all. First I'm going to find him. Then, I'm going to kill him.

Cain smiled, his white teeth bared like fangs in the dark room, illuminated only by the light of the computer.

Then, I will take his weapon – and I will become the New Kira.

--

"It's day four, now." He walked to school, the cold, September wind rustling through his hair. "I'm running out of time."

"_You're really banking on those protests to work, aren't you?_"

"It's just logical – take something from the people long enough and they're going to do anything to get it back. Still, it's going on much longer than I'd expected."

"_What're you going to do when it hits day five?_" Xeonihl floated directly above Darryl's head. He found it slightly discomforting, feeling like small prey to a starving eagle.

"Well, I may not be the smartest person in the world," he placed his hand over his messenger back, stroking over the resting place of the _DEATH NOTE_. "But I do have a plan."

Darryl saw his school on the horizon, about two blocks away. It was a large building, about three stories tall, with iron fencing surrounding every side. The white bricks reflected the sunlight of the early morning, and the other students bustled inside. Some were worried, some were happy. Only one was contemplating the New World. Only Darryl feared for his life every time he stepped outside. He could barely stay asleep anymore. He would wake up at obscure hours of the night for no real reason, the _DEATH NOTE _being the first thing on his mind.

"You know, Xeonihl, I lied to you before."

"_Hm?_"

"There is a reason other than Kira's Legacy that I'm using the Death Note in this way."

"_Is there?_" He laughed once again.

"Everything's so boring, so same-y. The only thing that ever took me away from the monotony of it all was stories. Adventures, mostly, because they all start off the same way I did…

"…with some kid, bored out of his skull, getting called away. Taken somewhere by a man in the rain calling his name, as if all the world had forgotten, and would remember it again. The _Note _was my escape."

"_You've no need to tell me about your reasons. It's not like I'll understand them even if you tried to explain. I'm just satisfied to know there was more than one. Satisfied to know I was right._"

Darryl, still walking, turned his head and shot a weak smile at the God of Death.

"Thanks."

Stepping through the glass doors of the school, Darryl accidentally knocked shoulders with a student next to him. He apologized and continued to his homeroom. He went over his plan one more time.

_Tomorrow, he said to himself. If the internet isn't back up by tonight, I'll have to bring it up myself tomorrow._

--

Who the fuck was that? Cain seemed livid.

Some student. Why do you care?

He just bumped into you, of course. He was barely watching the path ahead of him, and you were standing _directly _in front of him.

He apologized, what more do you want?

He crossed his arms and stared at me in impatience. It was always his – my – bad quality.

Still, I said. Let's focus more on the path ahead of _us_. It's going to be tough weeding out Kira in a school as populous as this. He could be in any year.

First thing to do is to round up the Kira supporters somehow. Separate them.

Still, the Kira here might be smart enough not to associate himself with them.

Let's not jump to conclusions just yet. Take this one step at a time.

I continued onto the classroom, smiling.

"One step at a time," I said aloud.

The bell rang.

The game is afoot.

--

--

_And I'd bash it all away,_

_if I could._

_If I believed that it would,_

_make me good._

_Good._


	3. Chapter 3: Realize

Chapter Three:

Realize

Everything seemed to weigh down on Darryl at once. The stress and monotony that school brought, the suppression of his secret life, and the overbearing doubt that plagued his every thought.

_Will it work? _He asked himself over and over, playing the scenario again and again. Each time it worked, but each time the thought grew more vague, as if covered in mist. He could not see it clearly anymore. He began to doubt if it was even there at all. He wondered if the mist swallowed it, and with it, his dream of the Reign's rebirth.

He collapsed into his seat, throwing his bag to the side. The students were filing into the room one-by-one, taking their seats politely, either crossing their legs or folding their hands as they sat. Darryl struggled to keep his eyes open. He did his best to grind the lethargy from them with his knuckles, but did little to lessen their strain. He was getting little to no sleep in the past week. He was spending his mornings and afternoons in school, his evenings studying, his nights reading over the names and deaths, and his midnights staring at the ceiling, wondering. Wondering if he deserved any of this. Wondering if he was doing the right thing. Wondering what would happen to him.

Wondering why he had to do it all alone.

--

I knew this wasn't going to be easy.

Nothing is ever easy, Roth, you know this better than anyone. You just make it seem easy.

Comes with the IQ, I suppose.

"Can anyone tell me the translation here?" Her voice echoed off the walls and shrilled into each student's mind.

_Where _is the problem. Where can I bring up the issue? Not here, certainly.

I assume Kira isn't excellent conversation in a Classics class. Unless she brings up Nero, or something.

"Anyone?"

And I'm just _assuming _he will be in a class with me. The likelihood of that is not entirely high. Admittedly, the class sizes are small, and the school isn't the _most _populous, but –

She's going to call on you.

"Mr. Roth! Can you please translate this?"

Distracted, I let out a slight groan. Cain laughed.

Told you, he said.

I picked up the book and hunted for the passage she asked to be translated.

"_It is the right of war for conquerors to treat those whom they have conquered according to their whim,_"

Heh, he said, crossing his arms. He looked out the window overlooking the back field, staring at those beneath him. How fitting.

"Excellent! Well done, Aiden! Now, who's next?"

I shot a quick glance into the teacher's eye. To no avail. She already was picking her next victim with her bulging, fish-like eyes. The one she called on wouldn't be as lucky—wouldn't be as smart as me. No one is.

Hah. She called you Aiden, he said. I haven't heard that name in a while.

My name is Roth. Just Roth.

Not for long. Soon, you'll adopt another name. The name you _deserve_. No need to keep your father's anymore.

_Cain_! He was still leaning against the radiator along the wall, looking at those below him. Never mention _him_ again.

He returned my gaze. Same face. Different person.

Fine. My apologies, _Kira_.

--

Third period. Less than two hours into the school day, and already Darryl had a headache. He was about ready to tear his hair out, strand-by-strand, until his scalp bled. He ran his fingers through his hair coarsely to simulate the act as Xeonihl floated behind him, looking nowhere. Staring at nothing.

It still weighed down on him. Heavier now, increasing by the moment. Feather after feather amassing, until the wind bore no sway over the great mound. He was drenched in it, and soon, he would be drowning in it.

"…so, Mr. Hunter, what would the square root be?"

Darryl nearly jumped from his desk. He had not even realized class had begun. He scrambled to search the log on his laptop, hoping to find something. Anything. A clue. He scrolled, looked at the board, scrolled some more. His eyes scanned the numbers, each becoming more and more meaningless as he read them. Another feather drifted onto his shoulder. His back clenched, and he released a long, depressed breath.

"Sorry. I wasn't paying attention, Mr. Allen."

"Huh," he looked at Darryl accusingly through his glasses. "Anyone else?"

Xeonihl laughed once. Darryl was losing concentration. It was all becoming too much for him. It had only been five days.

_I'm no Kira, _he said to himself, closing out the prompt on his laptop. _I'm just some student who thought he could be something._

--

_Looking through Eternity is something I never look forward to. I see in only two moments: Now and Eternity. There is no past or future, only this moment and what echoes in this moment._

_Watching this one struggle now reminds me of the Selfless One. Ryuk's possessor. He echoes. His actions resonate. He was a pupil who thought he could be something. He became the one I remember. One of the only ones I remember. The others don't have titles. They just resonate as thoughts, feelings. Not as names._

_For once I look to the future. For a moment. For now. Will this one…will my possessor…resonate? Will he be something? Is he something already?_

_I laugh. It doesn't matter. No reason to entertain the thought._

--

One thing still sticks with me, Roth.

What's that?

Last night, when you said your plan.

Yes.

You said you were going to kill him. This Kira impostor.

So?

That sounds like something more along the lines of what I would do. You're the calm one here.

I did my best to drag my feet to the next class, through the bustling crowd of children all heading to their rooms. Talking amongst themselves about stupid things like movies and grades. Only I was concerned about what actually mattered.

What can I say? You inspired me.

Hah, I'm flattered, but that can't be the reason. You have a reason for everything.

I shuffled through a collected group of students stopping the flow of the hallway, nodding my head in apology and continuing on to the staircase to the third floor.

If I were to steal Kira's weapon, I continued, there would be no way I could leave this impostor alive. He would pose a threat the instant he learned of my plan. No matter how immature or irresponsible or careless he might be.

So it's not just my brotherly ways rubbing off on you, then?

Don't give yourself too much credit, Cain.

I never do, he said. I usually find I earn the credit I give myself.

--

Lunch was usually the one moment of the day Darryl could get any kind of peace. Sitting alone, at least to him, was never really a bad thing. It was a blessing on some days. Sure, he missed company, but being able to sit back and collect his thoughts always brought some form of relief. Still, today, he found it difficult to relax at all.

He could barely waste the energy to distract himself. Every thought, every stray glance, every _thing _recalled his doubt. He was on the verge of tears. He was suffocating. The only one who knew about it, Xeonihl, could do nothing for him. Couldn't comfort him, reason with him. Nothing. The worst part was he wasn't even obligated to do so. Talking to the single thing that Darryl could confide in was as useless as talking to a wall.

_Kira could survive without comfort, _he told himself. He played with his macaroni, probing it with his fork and dropping it back onto the plate. _Kira could have survived worse than high school. Worse than stress._

"Excuse me, can I sit here, please?"

Darryl jolted up, nearly falling off his chair. He looked across from him to see another student, a bit older than him, waiting for permission to sit. His short, brown hair and blue eyes seemed to fit the 'private school' criteria perfectly, and his perfectly buttoned and pressed uniform did nothing but accentuate that status.

"Oh, sure, go ahead." The student took a seat across from Darryl. "No need to ask, it's free."

"Thanks, I was just making sure. Are you new here?"

"Uhm, yeah," Darryl seemed confused by the question. "How did you figure that?"

"Because you're sitting at the seniors' table."

"Oh, God, I'm sorry, I'll—"

"No, no, please, you can sit. No one except me has lunch this early." He offered his hand from across the table. "My name's Roth."

"Roth, huh? Sweet name. I'm Darryl." Darryl took his hand in acceptance. For a moment, he forgot why he was so upset.

"So did you transfer to this school just recently?"

"Yep. A week or two ago, maybe, when the semester started. I used to live in New York."

"New York? Wow. Why in hell did you move?" Roth let out a friendly laugh.

"Hah, well, my father got transferred. He used to be in IDA Central, but got transferred out to one of these Urbs. He's the head of the new center that opened up here."

Roth choked on his soda. He took a moment to catch his breath, then looked at Darryl in surprise.

"Your father was at IDA Central? I interned there for two summers!"

"Wow, no way. You must be some kind of super-genius or something."

"Hah, not really. I come from a smart family, I just happened to get some of their brains in the gene pool. Who is your father? Maybe I met him, spoke to him even."

"John Hunter. Well, everyone calls him—"

"Jake?! Jake Hunter's your father? No kidding, he was my supervisor!"

"Wow, what a small world, huh?"

"Yeah, wow, I can't believe it. How is your father?"

"He's the same as ever. Still all techy, still loves computers more than people."

"Hah, that's not true. He spoke very highly of you, Darryl."

Darryl's heart stopped for a moment. In that instant, he felt relieved. All the stress had been lifted for a fraction of a second. His father mentioned him. His father _spoke _of him in that outside world Darryl never wanted to imagine. Of course, all the stress came back, but it felt much less heavy now.

"He did?"

"Yes, on a few occasions. Of course, I had no idea _who _you were. Still, he mentioned you. I think that means he's fond enough of you as a son."

"Yeah," Darryl took a moment to relish in the surprise once more. "Thanks for sharing that."

"Any time!" Roth checked his watch and, in an instant, stood up with his bag ready. "Agh, I didn't realize what time it was. I need to study for my English quiz coming up."

"Oh, sure. What class is it?"

"It's the Myth and Literature seminar, actually."

Darryl's heart sank.

"Don't tell me we have a quiz today…"

"Wow, don't tell _me _that you're in that class, too?"

"Yeah, sadly." Darryl rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger. Another feather swayed onto his shoulder.

"Well, then, by fate's decree, you've been lucky enough to meet me. Come on, let me help you try not to fail."

"You sure? I mean, I don't want to intrude if you need to stud—"

"No, not at all. Upper-level seminars are never fun for underclassmen. I've been there before. I'm prepared enough as it is."

Darryl grabbed his bag and threw it over his shoulder. He lifted his tray and walked it to the trash can.

"If you're sure you're alright with this."

"Not a problem! Let's head to the classroom. It's empty before the seminar, and we've got a good…twenty minutes."

--

What are you doing?!

What are you so worried about? I'm helping Darryl study.

That's your problem, you know. You lack the stomach to be cold enough to get things done.

And you're too cold when you want to get things done, Cain. Don't lecture me. We've got plenty – PLENTY – of time to find Kira.

All I ask for here is a little consistency. For someone who's supposedly willing to _kill _to get what he wants, he's convincing enough to be an innocent little schoolboy.

The Kira case and Darryl needing help are two _very _different things.

"You alright, man?"

I gathered myself together, ignoring Cain's fit of rage.

"Yes, I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"I don't know, you just seemed a bit distracted."

"Hah, thanks for your concern. No, I was just – thinking to myself."

Yes, too much thinking, not enough _doing! _He dragged himself down the hallway, his hands in his pockets, suppressing most of his fiery temper.

I led Darryl into the empty classroom and flicked on the linoleum lights. Their soft hum always nagged me, but it would be inconsiderate to ask Darryl if we could leave them off.

What is it with you and manners?

Ignoring him, I took a seat next to Darryl, trying to walk him through the story we were assigned to read. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was being listened to. He was attentive, and most of all – he was interested. Cain was always there, always in my mind, to speak to as an equal.

I've never had someone look up to me.

I've never really had a _friend_.

--

Darryl did his best to not beat himself up.

"Don't worry," Roth spoke softly from the desk next to him, trying to avert the teacher's fox-like ears. "That was almost impossible. There's no way you could have figured out how _old _the character was. It's never mentioned!"

"Yeah, sure. Is that why you got all of them right?" Darryl laughed, trying to distract himself from his own depression.

"I got lucky, really." Roth returned the laugh.

"Now!" Mr. Hallister turned his balding head to the small group of students, most of them hardly paying any attention. "Conflict is the big issue in this story, as you all have guessed. The characters are all intentionally vague, even the scenarios are told as if we already knew them. Vantel wrote it that way purposefully. She wanted to show that a reader can get a good sense of conflict and tension without being completely aware of what's going on.

"Can anyone give me their interpretation of the conflict at hand, or, at least, _one _of them?"

Silence.

"Come on, anyone? Anyone at all? Don't make me pick, you _know _you don't want me to start pic—"

"Actually," Roth raised his hand and sat forward. It was strange for Darryl to see. He remembered there was always a "smart" kid in the class that would be picked out for the tougher questions, but never had he seen this student actively pursue a question. That was probably why he didn't recognize Roth when he introduced himself barely an hour ago.

"Oh, s-s-sure, Mr. Roth! Go ahead, what do you think is going on here?"

"Well, looking at it, you can tell it's a very multi-tiered conflict. It's all written in a stream-of-conscious-like vain, with different conflicts arising each time the protagonist can call them to mind, no matter how intrusive they may seem.

"However, there's one big issue that never, ever leaves the pages. He constantly reminds himself how strained he's become. In his mind, as warped as it may seem to us, he has the power of life or death over the whole world. It's a very egocentric view, as if he were the nexus of the universe. Still, in his mind, though he _knows _it, he doesn't _realize_ the sort of power he's wielding. He has the power of choice, and he doesn't even know how to use it. Because of this, he can't bring himself to let go of his burdens."

"Excellent answer, Mr. Roth! Excellent, well done!" The teacher seemed relieved that he himself did not have to spell out that very scenario for everyone else, doing his best not to applaud. Darryl sat up, intrigued. "Might I ask, though, why you chose until just now to speak up?"

--

Cain laughed. Go ahead, he said. Tell them.

--

"Well, Mr. Hallister, I'll be one-hundred-percent honest…" Roth took a glance around the room. It seemed as if he wanted to see the reactions his next statement would garner.

"…this whole story reminds me of the Reign of Kira."

Darryl nearly leapt from his seat, as did the rest of the class. Xeonihl let out a single, loud laugh. Louder than anything he'd released before, as if, for a single moment, he was shaken out of his eternal boredom.

"I apologize to anyone whom I might have offended, but I feel this needs to be said."

The professor staggered for a moment, then, reluctantly, spoke.

"Very well, Mr. Roth. But, please, be careful choosing your words. This is a very touchy matter."

"I'm well aware of that, Mr. Hallister." He took a glance around the room, as if checking to make sure of the eyes over which he now held sway. The floor was his. "But touchy matters should never be kept silent. Otherwise nothing would ever get done in this world.

"I believe that the problem we have with Kira is that we don't see him as a person. We see him as something to be feared, we see him as a proverbial 'god' who will waste no time in cutting down those in his way. And yes, the legends have rooted this firmly in our minds, but legends are _never _to be taken literally. Over time, stories are eroded. Certain facts are forgotten, melded into different forms over time to befit the new era. Perhaps we don't realize that Kira, like anyone else, is still _human._

"This is where I see the story relating to all of this. Kira is a _human, _much like the character in the story. Though the character loses sight of his humanity in his situation, seeing that his choice can change the entire world, Kira has _not _forgotten his. He's striving to make this world a better place, ridding it of all the evils which would blemish it. I don't mean to sound like some fanatic or extremist, but we need to see what's going on here. It's been less than a week, and already, the most feared and hidden criminals in the Union are being killed off. The internet ban has done nothing to stop him. All he needs now, which the character of the story did not have, is the support of someone _else._

"In the story, all the protagonist had was himself. It came to the point where his whole mind seemingly collapsed into itself. The only other people who are mentioned are those he had power over. It's the same situation with Kira. Right now, he is alone on this. Taking the burden of each criminal on his own, asserting his power over those who would fall to it. What he needs now is support from those he has no power over – those who have done no evil, and those who would witness the rise of a better world – the New World."

Darryl was in complete shock. He never thought someone would have the courage to discuss this, let alone rally for support. Here he was, the first true supporter of Kira. Little did he know he was standing right next to the man himself.

Suddenly Darryl heard a desk shift. Someone behind him had stood. It was Gerry Bonte. He'd recognized him from a few of the announcements. He was on one of the school's teams, and a fairly well-known entity in the school body.

"Mr. Hallister, I have to agree with Roth, here." A few of the other students whispered among themselves in surprise. "Just think about it: we have nothing to fear from Kira as long as we've done nothing wrong, and he _is _working to make a better world. No matter how little it might be, it must be taking a toll on him. He needs support for his Reign to stand."

Mr. Hallister looked nervously outside the door again, rubbing his hands together.

"Well, I suppose you are entitled to your own opinions. And, Mr. Roth, you have posed some very good points to consider…not to mention some pretty clever literary allusions." The aged professor winked and smiled. "Just be sure not to repeat this to some of the other, less open staff. We don't want word going around that we've got Kira allies in the school. Who knows what might happen."

"That's the problem, though, Mr. Hallister!" Roth seemed a bit agitated. "We have nothing to fear from supporting Kira. If there is one thing that has never changed in this country, even through the years of globalization and world order, it's our freedoms of speech. No one will be able to suppress that, Kira knows this. And if he himself tries to suppress that, he is going against the very thing his New World stands for – principle built by just men."

Darryl was completely convinced that Roth knew more about his intentions than he himself did. Suddenly everyone in the room was nodding in agreement, all with wary, but sure, smiles on their faces. Something clicked inside Darryl. Another feather fell off. For a moment.

--

Very good, he said. Very good. You've got your flock in their fence.

Now it's just a matter of picking out which one is their alpha male. Their ring leader.

Kira's not going to just up and announce his supremacy, even in a crowd of supporters. No one is that stupid.

No. You know the plan, Cain.

I do. He smiled again, finally getting his head away from his anger and back into the game.

Gain his trust, lure him out, then take his name.

--

Class was finished, but the day was hardly over. Darryl knew he had support, even in school, but that did little to truly stem the tide of what was to come. Support was only good for the long run. At the moment, his plan still hovered above like a vulture waiting for the instant that Darryl's last breath escaped. This would either reignite Kira, or kill him.

"What's on your mind, Darryl?"

Roth decided to walk with Darryl to his next class. Evidently, as a senior, you get very bored having too many free periods.

"Uhm…well, just what you said before."

Roth laughed for a moment. He seemed relieved.

"For a moment in there," he said, "I thought you were still so nervous about the quiz that you weren't listening."

"Oh, no, I was! I was shocked! You had a lot of guts mentioning that."

"Well, I felt it needed to be spoken. The only way for evil men to succeed is for the good to stay silent, right?"

"Still…what do you think about Kira?"

"How do you mean? I thought I was pretty clear in there." Roth laughed again, shooting Darryl a friendly eye.

"I mean," Darryl had to choose his words carefully. He didn't want to slip up so early in the game. "_Who_ do you think he is? Is he even a 'he?' You know?"

Roth seemed intrigued. He took a moment to collect his thoughts, not paying attention to his own feet ahead of him.

"I'm not sure why I believe Kira's a male, that feeling just always struck me. He operates with a cool, almost emotionless façade, while at the same time remains tied to his feelings. They are what drives him, that's certain. As for _who _he really is-" he looked into Darryl's interested gaze with his razor-sharp eyes. "-I suppose we'll never really know. Still, I get the feeling he's much like the character from _A Clearing in the Brush. _Very much aware of his position in the world, aware of his supposed omnipotence, but…"

Roth stopped for a moment before he reached the stairway. He placed his hand to his mouth in thought, leaning himself against the opposite wall. Students walked past, between the conversing teenagers, all trapped in their own worlds.

"…I sense he's more immature this time around."

Darryl's eyes widened. It was something that, though he did not want to, he knew he was going to hear eventually.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked, trying not to sound insulted.

"Well, this _obviously _isn't the same Kira as the one back in the 2000's. No one's immortal. It just seems to me like this Kira, while he is efficient and accomplishing, is unaware of the power he holds. Just like Arthur."

"Who's Arthur?" Roth widened his eyes and shook himself from the depths of his own mind. He snapped himself back into reality.

"Sorry, that's the name I picked for _Clearing_'s protagonist. I was sick of having to call him something so generic. I felt like he needed a name. Everything does. Nothing is real until it's called something."

"Hah, yeah." Darryl was lost. He wasn't sure if that monologue was in context with the previous conversation or if Roth was rambling. Either way, he felt stupid.

"Anyway, yeah, I just feel like Kira, while he is ultimately the same idea, is a different person. Whether that's a good or bad thing is yet to be determined, but I get the feeling Kira needs to become aware of the power he's harnessing before he unleashes it fully."

Darryl let those last words resonate. The load he had been bearing seemed to lighten. It wasn't because someone else lifted it, though. No outer force rustled the weight. He felt stronger this time.

"Anyway, I need to head to class. I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

"Oh, sure." Darryl smiled back, his mind in a whole other realm. "We should hang out sometime."

Roth turned his head in surprise. He seemed shaken. Conflicted, somehow.

"Uhm, yeah." He laughed nervously. "O-Of course! I'll talk to you again tomorrow."

"Okay, see you around, man."

--

Hang out?

Yes, Roth, it means he desires your friendship. You act like you've never heard those words before.

I feel like I haven't. Not in a long, long time.

Either way, we have no time for him. We have to focus on Kira.

Don't you realize? He looked at me impatiently. He was beginning to wear thin even at _my _nerves. I _am _focusing on the mission.

Cain's eyes went wide. He turned suddenly to see Darryl hopping his way down the staircase. He turned back at me in disgusted surprise.

No.

I'm not sure.

Not him. He _can't _be! Just _look _at him! He's not capable of anything remotely at Kira's level of expertise.

Appearances can be deceiving. Do we _look_ insane?

Cain grumpily scoffed the last remark. He continued to stare maliciously at the spot where Darryl stood.

Besides, nothing Kira's done so far can be classified as on an "expert" level, assuming his weapon is 'user-friendly,' for lack of a better phrase.

Cain was disgusted by this last statement. I know him through-and-through. He sees Kira as his nemesis, but more than that – he sees him as his _equal._ He desires nothing more than to see the defeat of someone by his hands, at his level. Anything below that was a disgrace to his name. And he wants a new name.

Kira or not, I said continuing back on my way to history, Darryl Hunter's piqued my interest.

--

Darryl was sweating. He sat over the blank page, scratching his head in frustration. It was now or never. He had to do it. He had to do it now

He carefully slid the black pen out of his pocket, removed the cap and placed the ball-point on the paper. He teased the page with the ink, bringing the tip closer then retracting. Whether he did this out of nervousness or out of a loss of concentration he wasn't sure. He didn't think, until now, that it was possible to have writer's block with a _DEATH NOTE. _

His room never felt so small, his desk so cluttered. The air around him seemed to swirl, suffocating him. Xeonihl stood aimlessly behind him, reading over his shoulder.

"_You never had a plan, did you?_"

Darryl felt the weight come back in full force. Xeonihl was right on the money. Darryl didn't have the intellect to come up with something to bring the internet back. He wasn't a prodigy. He wasn't Roth, and he certainly wasn't Kira.

"No." Darryl tossed the pen to the side of his desk, sitting back.

**Question: Did you say something, Master Darryl?**

"No, Dael, sorry." Even the DAEL was becoming an overbearing nuisance. Darryl couldn't outthink a calculating machine. He couldn't do anything. Nothing.

He threw the Note onto his bed in plain sight, not caring anymore about its power or burden, and fell on his side next to it, careful to shield it from the DAEL's eye.

_Why did I even bother? _He mouthed the words to himself. It was a childish dream, to become something powerful. Something not of this world. He tried his best to live it out, but his best was not even close to good enough. He had never felt so hopeless in his life. He didn't have a plan. All he had was a face, a name, and an impossible situation. Anyone else could have done this. Anyone but him.

He leaned his head into his hand, wiping his eyes with the other. He took a long, unblinking look at the Note. He studied its shape, its color, its shimmer under the ceiling light, its lettering. He felt like it was the first time he really looked at his weapon. For something so powerful, its form was so elusive. Its build seemed almost undeserving of the potential it held. Something so feeble, so breakable, capable of accomplishing the impossible. It reminded Darryl of—

In that moment, it came back to him like a wave, crushing away the burden which accumulated over the hours. Roth's voice, his words, reverberated in his mind effortlessly, like a call from somewhere far away, somewhere where words should never reach. It was quiet, it was still. But it struck away the burden with such a force that even Darryl was stunned.

"_I get the feeling Kira needs to become aware of the power he's harnessing before he unleashes it fully._"

Darryl looked at the Note once more. He hadn't realized, in all this time, what he was doing until that moment. He sat up, holding the _DEATH NOTE _shakily in both of his hands. He had been using this book, this feeble, unimpressive book to _kill _people. His heart stopped. For a moment he could breathe. Tears welled up behind his eyes, ready to burst at any moment. He clutched the book to his chest, realizing, for the first time, he had murdered over a hundred people. One hundred men and women sent to the grave. One hundred souls lost to nothingness. One still remained for today. One last soul to be lost, now…

Then his heart beat again. He caught his breath, and his tears receded all in the same instant they worked themselves up. Darryl realized he used this Note to murder, to destroy. He realized he had killed over one hundred people. He realized that he, formerly an innocent teenager with nothing but childish hopes, was now the most wanted and corrupted soul in the world.

But he realized, as well, that he used the Note to build, to create. He sent to justice one hundred criminals deserving of their fates. Finally he realized that he, formerly an innocent child with hopes beyond their own realities, had accomplished the impossible. He, like the _DEATH NOTE _itself, unbefitting of its image, became the idea that shook a world, the principle that enticed respect in fear and trembling, and the name that rallied a New World Order. He clutched the Note to his heart which now beat against the cover in a gentle, pulsing rhythm.

The load was gone, and all he needed to do was realize what he'd done, what he'd become, and more importantly – what he needed to do.

"I need to trust in myself." He whispered to himself, held out the Note in front of him, and opened the page. "Just like Arthur."

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Ripped from his calm, Darryl threw the Note under his pillow, accidentally tearing a page from its binding. He gasped for a moment, then shoved the ripped page in his pocket in a panic, crumpling it.

"C-Come in!"

Darryl's mother opened the door and poked her head in. Her short, brown hair shimmered under the light, and her clear blue eyes shone almost angelically against Darryl's painted walls.

"Darryl, what are you still doing in here? We need to get ready for the Honors Assembly tonight! Don't tell me you forgot. Now, let's go, and grab your shoes, for God's sake!" She hurried back down the hallway and left the door ajar for Darryl to follow.

He sat on his bed in pure shock. Of all the luck in the world, after his internal struggle and realization, he was faced with the one thing he was never able to overcome: his own forgetfulness. He checked the DAEL. The Log said it was nearly 7:30. He had no time to go hunting for his data file which held the name of his next victim, and absolutely no way of sneaking the DEATH NOTE with him to the assembly without someone noticing.

Darryl's heart stopped again.

"Why does this always have to happen?"

--

He took a seat in the last aisle of the mezzanine row, next to another well-dressed family of three. His mother and father sat next to him, holding hands as they placed themselves into their seats. Darryl turned around to see Xeonihl, still as intimidating as ever, standing behind him. Darryl began to sweat a little, this hair matted to his forehead. He glanced around again, checking to see if he was being too conspicuous. Luckily, he looked like everyone else in the auditorium. Everyone wore their finest suits and dresses, all of the parents wore smiles, and all the students wore expressions of either disdain or disgust.

He reached into his pocket and fiddled with the pen and the crumpled _DEATH NOTE_ page inside. It hadn't occurred to him until that moment that, perhaps, if a page had been torn out of the Note, it could still be used. However, he had no way of asking Xeonihl. Not only was there no guarantee he would answer the question, but it was much too crowded to ask a seemingly non-existent Death God about the weapon of Kira and its limits.

_I have no other choice. _The lights dimmed as everyone took their seats, and applause rose from the audience. Darryl removed the pen and paper from his pocket, unfurling the crumpled sheet and leaning it against his knee, careful not to draw attention. _I have to take a leap of faith._

Standing backstage is never enjoyable. No matter how prepared I am, I always feel like some kind of zoo animal, being displayed to please and entertain an audience so that this institution can make more money. I knew it was cynical, but sometimes it was the only way I saw it all. The drone of the principle's voice waned over the curtains, muffled like some plugged brass instrument. It struck my eardrums more awfully than an earache, and irritated Cain more and more by the syllable.

--

When in God's name are they going to announce you?!

Give it time, I said, equally irritated. Not more than a few minutes now.

Yes, yes, fine. I can't stand these ceremonies. What are they for, other than to flaunt the prestige of the school? Certainly not to boast about your _own _achievements, Roth. They're using you.

Well, as long as they continue to supply me with a scholarship, I must do as they say.

Cain rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. He paced back and forth, more furiously by the step until, like a rest in a cacophonous musical score, Roth's name was spoken. Claps rang from the seats.

Showtime, Cain said, relieved and sated by the applause.

I stepped out onto the stage and up to the podium. The clapping died out slowly, and the theater gave way to silence. I closed my eyes for a moment and leaned into the wooden rim of the podium, recalling my speech as best I could. The best orators said their speech from their mind, not letting themselves retain the knowledge they may have gained since the pen was placed to paper.

"Hello, and welcome to the thirty-fifth annual Honors Assembly here at Carrows Preparatory School. Firstly, today, we should acknowledge that we are here to celebrate not only the hard-working students whom have achieved such a renowned status, but also the equally tried and tested parents whom have raised them to the best of their ability. Your dedication, your effort, and your knowledge have all brought you here today, and you should all be tremendously proud of yourselves and your colleagues.

"However, more than anything, we should acknowledge that attaining Honors is not something that is done simply by knowing, or trying, or dedicating. Often, even the greatest of men and women who achieve something in their life come to a crossroads. This fork in the path is unavoidable, and in the words of Robert Frost, sometimes one must take 'the road less traveled.' Sometimes, the greatest of honored men and women are required to take a leap of faith."

--

Darryl scrawled the letters as casually as he could, the sweat gathering at his brow even in the frigid theater. He finished writing what he was sure was the cause of death. He couldn't even see what he had written in the darkness. He had to assume that what he was doing was right. Now, he just had to remember the man's face. And the man's name.

"Knowing the answers," Roth continued, "calculating the problem and finding the proper solution isn't always the most effective way to go about things. Even the most brilliant students have difficulty with issues that might confront them, no matter if they're school or home-related. These issues consume them, consume all of us, and often act as nothing but a burden to weigh us down at everything else.

"While I do firmly believe that taking the plunge into a purely faith-driven end is sometimes rewarding, I am not saying that it's always the best solution. Someone can't simply arrive to the top of the waterfall and throw himself to the sharks without taking a moment to think. There is something essential that we all need before we can take this insistent plunge, and that thing is this: the time to realize. To realize ourselves, to know what we've done and what we're capable of."

Darryl remembered the face. He began to write the name.

--

_Watching this one scribble pathetically was strange to behold. He was worried, scared, incompetent. He was many things all at once. I don't know these feelings. All these humans worry and fear is me. This one fears the death that awaits him at his failure. The other one continues to speak._

_Once they realize what they can do, he says, what they should do, they no longer need logic or cold, calculating minds to lead them. They only need a reason. And that reason is themselves._

_I laugh once. Again with their reasons. When will they realize?_

_Death is all that is. I am the only 'reason.'_

--

"And once we take that dive into the cold unknown, we're consumed by the fear, by the uncertainty of what's to come. We wait in that bitter nothing until we remember: it's not up to some other force like fate or destiny to bring us up. It's up to only us. Then we remember: we took a breath before diving. We have the power. We realize. Now we just need to break the surface.

"This is how honor is achieved, ladies and gentlemen, my fellow students. Not in the trust of older men or in words spoken before our time, but in the belief we have in ourselves, in _our _time. Once this is realized, no amount of impatience," –Cain glanced at me, knowing that he was the target of that line- "no amount of negative criticism, no amount of heartless, _logical _decisions can deter us from our goals.

"I invite you all to remember what I've said. Take whatever of this speech applied to you most, and keep it close to your heart." I took a step back from the podium, not needing a microphone for the power of these last words.

"You'll need it soon, for when you take your dive in these times to come."

--

The assembly had finished. Darryl's father had grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him to the stage to see if they could catch Roth before he left. Luckily, his father managed to get his attention, and Roth came over, with a big, relieved smile on his face.

"Mr. Hunter! It's great to see you!" He clasped his hand and shook it firmly.

"Hey, Roth, how've you been? I had no idea you went to this school until just now!"

"Yes, it's a strange coincidence, isn't it? I met Darryl today, as well!"

"No kidding!" His father turned to Darryl, smiling. "You never told me."

"I never got the chance. We rushed out the door before I even had my clothes on." Darryl pointed to his ruffled shirt and loose tie. His father laughed, slapping him on the shoulder.

"That speech was incredible, Roth!" His father continued. "I knew you were good with numbers. Never had any idea you were good with words, too."

"Oh, I'm not that great, really." He smiled nervously, pushing his bangs back from his eyes. "I just spoke from the heart. Took a leap."

Darryl smiled. He placed his hand in his pocket and closed his fingers around the crumpled page. If it hadn't been for Roth's support from behind the scenes, he probably would not have had the courage to go through with the plan. He realized himself. He took his dive. Now he waited in the freezing waters, ready to surface.

Ready to see where his dive had taken him.

--

**INTERNET RETURNED AFTER RIOT GOES OUT OF CONTROL**

**(9/24/2123, Thursday) Last night in New York City, at IDA Central, riots broke out over the total internet restriction put into place at the mass murderer Kira's return this past Saturday, the 19th. The riot started out at first as a protest, but it soon erupted into something beyond IDA Security's control. The restriction was put into place to make sure that Kira had no way of finding information about criminals in the Union. However, over the past five days, the Most Wanted criminals of the Union have continued to die of heart attacks at a rate of twenty per day. **

**Many of the men and women who participated in the protest complained that this restriction did nothing to put a stop to Kira's "Reign" as they continued to worry about their accounts being blocked out. Some families have had to go for days without eating.**

**At around 8:30 Thursday evening, the protest broke out into a full-blown riot when Gareth Fitzgerald, whom authorities told us was a stock broker accused of fraud several times over his career, began to assault one of the security guards posted at the door. The riot happened so suddenly that the security force was overwhelmed, and the lobby of the building was stormed. Luckily, the NYPD arrived at the scene and quickly dispatched the riot, but the riot's ring leader, Fitzgerald, was trampled to during the struggle. He was brought to ICU an hour after the building was broken in, but the doctors could do nothing to save him, and he passed away shortly after.**

**A few hours after the break-in, IDA's Commissioner, Bernard Vergil, told the press that the order to release the internet back to the public came from the capitol. He expressed his deepest condolences--**

Darryl kept reading with glee. It was such a simple plan, in reality. He had no idea why he didn't believe it would work. No one could go that long without access to their accounts. Luckily, he thought, his parents were smart enough to keep emergency accounts outside of any network.

Darryl sat back in his chair and folded his arms behind his head. He looked out his window at the sunrise. It was a new day. Darryl smiled from ear to ear. He placed his hand in his pocket and curled his fingers around the paper once more.

_The Reign has truly begun, _he said. _And there is no doubt in my mind. I realize, now – I am Kira._

--

--

_To us, it is the way_

_I am built._

_To us, it is the way_

_I deal with many things._


End file.
